


Alpha & Omega

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-09
Updated: 2004-08-09
Packaged: 2019-02-05 13:26:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12795543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Marooned on a primitive planet with his Padawan and a native tribe, Qui-Gon finds his control eroding.





	1. I. The Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

"Master, I'm afraid I can't repair the damage. We're going to have to make an emergency landing."

 

I hear the slightest shading of alarm in Obi-Wan's tightly controlled voice. To anyone else he would sound calm and collected, his face perfectly neutral. Even with no one on board the shuttle but the two of us, he tries to bury his feelings. It doesn't work, however, for I can still hear the concern. I'm the only one who can, so well do I know this boy, this man I call Padawan.

 

"I understand, Padawan; it's only through your abilities that we have managed to make it this far. Most of the planets in this sector are habitable. Choose the closest one and land. Republic relays will pass on our distress signal. We shall be picked up eventually." I project an air of serenity I don't quite feel.

 

These planets are backwater, primitive places on the outer rim. For the most part they are unexplored. Force knows what we may run into down on the surface - anything from blaster-happy smugglers to hostile natives. I am loathe to burden Obi-Wan with my speculations though. Not because he's delicate and cannot handle it; that is so far from the truth it's ludicrous.

 

At twenty-three Obi-Wan is strong, self-sufficient and courageous. I sometimes think he should be the teacher, so often do I rely and lean on his strength of character and will these days. In fact, Obi-Wan's training is almost complete except for a little more seasoning, a little more work on living in the now and being mindful of the living Force.

 

No, his so-called 'delicacy' is not the reason I do not wish to trouble Obi-Wan. Truthfully, my reason is a more selfish one. I react - strongly - to Obi-Wan's emotional state. If he can stay calm and focused, I won't have the overwhelming urge to smother and protect him. Something he would not thank me for doing.

 

Obi-Wan is precious to me, more precious than he could possibly know. In that sense he is fragile and delicate - for he is the one I love, the one I would pledge myself to for all eternity. The one I would die for if need be.

 

Obi-Wan's elegant voice interrupts my introspection.

 

"Here, Master, the planet of Eira. It is oxygen-rich, and has a temperate climate. Everything seems to indicate it will be compatible to all humanoid needs." He is so quick, so wise.

 

"There has even been some contact made with indigenous tribes by archeologists studying this sector's development. They seem to be friendly, if a bit primitive." How I could have nearly denied myself the joy of his presence in my life, I will never know.

 

"Well done, Obi-Wan. Find a place to land near the most recently contacted tribe. We will make contact with them only if necessary," I reply, watching him skillfully maneuver the shuttle towards the planet's surface.

 

These past few weeks have bordered on the fantastic. Even I find the events that have taken place hard to believe sometimes. It has been almost a month since we sent out the distress signal, but still no sign of being recovered. If Obi-Wan and I didn't have each other to count on, I feel this would have been much harder to endure.

 

We landed safely on the planet, in a small forest clearing about three standard miles from the village. We expected the area to be devoid of humanoid life. We were wrong. Waiting just beyond the tree line were a handful of the Triethan. Their welcoming party consisted of the village elders and some of the warriors.

 

Our arrival had been predicted, or so we were told. Yet another surprise for us - they spoke Standard. It also seems that these people have a small ability over the Force. Faint - just enough to allow them to see the future - see our arrival. They took us in, treated us like long lost kin and made no demands, just wished our companionship and our help should we wish to give it.

 

We settled into the routine of the village, helping where we could. Learning what we could. We always had an audience when Obi-Wan and I practiced our katas and our lightsaber drills in the clearing beside the village. It was because of this that the tribal elders asked us our advice in a serious matter. They did not ask our help, but our opinion.

 

It seemed the villagers were being preyed upon by a 'demon'. It would attack indiscriminately, and what was left of the victim was not pleasant. I could not help but to offer Obi-Wan's and my assistance in capturing the creature. The village warriors gratefully accepted. So Obi-Wan and I went hunting.

 

Using the Force to guide us, we worked as we fought and trained - in complete unison of thought and movement - and tracked the so-called 'demon' to its lair and found an animal similar to a tybar, which did not appear to be indigenous to Eira. It was probably left behind by smugglers or pirates or some other spacefaring group, and it had grown up feral. It was now old and sick, preying on those weaker than itself.

 

It was also dying. Painfully. Being eaten alive by its illness. So Obi-Wan and I did the only thing we could. We gave it a merciful end... and were proclaimed heroes to be inducted as Triethan warriors and members of the tribe.

 

Today is the last day of the celebrations. Tonight Obi-Wan and I are to be made brothers of the of the tribe, and warriors in our own right. The induction has been a weeklong event with us proving our worth to the tribe through various displays of skill and prowess. Easy to do when one is a Jedi. An important part of the ritual has involved the drinking of a tribal concoction meant to cleanse the spirit. A quick analysis indicated it would not be poisonous to us, so I felt Obi-Wan and I should not insult our hosts by refusing to take the brew.

 

It seems to have affected us rather strangely, though. I've found it increasingly difficult to maintain my mental barriers, and Obi-Wan has said much the same. I've begun to suspect that the combination of local herbs and plant extracts acts as a kind of biological disruptor device - blocking our ability to raise our mental shields. This concerns me as there are some things that I am unwilling to let Obi-Wan know - such as my intense desire for him. I have also found myself feeling much more out of control, aggressive. Possessive of my Obi-Wan. This troubles me. Could this be yet another side effect of the drink, and if so, what is it doing to Obi-Wan?

 

"Is there a problem, Master?" Obi-Wan asks, perplexed. We are in our hut, preparing for the night's ceremony and celebration by meditating and fasting - the Jedi version of prayer.

 

"No, Padawan - why do you ask?"

 

"You have been looking at me rather strangely. Does this have something to do with the difficulty we are having maintaining our shields?" he continues. The cracks must be widening.

 

I can sense his curiosity and concern, which means he may be sensing my discomfort at my emotional state. "We need only drink the concoction once more at the acceptance ceremony, Obi-Wan. Whatever is causing this should be out of our systems in a day - two at the most. We'll be fine." I try to project an air of serenity, but by the furrowing of Obi-Wan's brows I assume that I have failed. He looks so... adorable when he worries like that. My desire for him seems to be increasing as well, or perhaps it is the strength to resist my desire that is fading.

 

"Yes, Master." I have to fight to control the shudder of pure desire that races through me. Force above, I love how he says that phrase. Subservient and deferential yet defiant, with a touch of dry humor. Ever the contradiction, even in his speech patterns, is my Obi-Wan.

 

When did I start calling him that? - my Obi-Wan. Another sign of my possessiveness. The way some of the village girls, not to mention the young men, look at him makes my teeth clench with barely suppressed anger. I want to claim him, mark him as mine. As my mate.

 

Gods above, I want him. I've denied myself for so long, buried those feelings deep down. I would have acknowledged them when Obi-Wan became a Knight, for then we would be equals instead of Master and Padawan. Instead, this thrice-damned potion has eroded my self-constraint to the point where its collapse is imminent. How I want him. More though, I want to take him as my life-bonded. I want Obi-Wan forever.

 

I only pray that I can shore up my crumbling reserves of willpower long enough for the elixir to burn itself out of my body.

 

I can feel the cleansing draught coursing through my system, my mind, attacking what shreds of self-preservation I have left. Too much... the last cup was too much. My shields are on the verge of shattering, my control frayed to the point of nothingness. Obi-Wan's shields have already collapsed entirely. I have been avoiding reaching out to him or being near him in order to give him some modicum of privacy. No, not just to give him privacy, but to shield myself from temptation as well. How tempting it is to dip into his mind, read his unguarded thoughts - find out just how he perceives me, what he feels for me.

 

The ceremony is over and the celebration fire ablaze in the central pit of the meeting lodge. A sudden summer storm is raging without. Lightening flashes. The rain lashes the building in the fury of nature while within the building alcoholic spirits, conversation and laughter flow freely. Obi-Wan's hair glows copper-gold in the light. The tribal garb of skintight animal hide breeches and a form hugging coarse woven shirt, open to his navel, cling lovingly to his muscular frame. How beautiful my Obi-Wan is. How sensual and delicious.

 

I have seen Obi-Wan's nude body before. Modesty between us has always been unnecessary. Now, however, I find myself noticing the nuances of his form that I had willed myself not to notice before. The sparse covering of burnished gold hair on a strong chest. Lean arms full of whipcord strength. A taut abdomen, rippling with well-defined muscles. I dare not look lower else my control will abandon me all together.

 

Obi-Wan glances across the room at me, a wicked glint in those sorcerous eyes, and smiles that half smile of his - the one that makes my gut clench with lust. I want him. I want my mate.

 

A young woman pulls him into the circle of people dancing around the fire and rage engulfs me. How dare she touch Obi-Wan - he is mine! Obi-Wan throws his head back in laughter, the elegant column of throat bared for all to see. That is the first place I will mark him, on that lovely expanse of glistening flesh.

 

I can no longer keep from brushing against his thoughts, and when I do, my control snaps - painfully. Desire radiates from him - waves of lust and longing. For me.

 

Oh, Obi-Wan, what a dangerous position you've placed yourself in. I am not in control. Not even the training I hold so sacred can aid you. The restraints of civilization are gone, my love, and you shall be the one to reap the whirlwind of my need.

 

I watch him sway to the primitive beat of tribal drums as they intermingle with the ground shaking thunder. Obi-Wan moves so sensually, so brazenly. Our eyes lock. You seem startled, Obi-Wan. Am I not what you expected to see? You've been baiting the wild beast of my lust all night, beloved. Keep it up and that beast will devour you.

 

I sense Obi-Wan's attempt to resurrect his shields in order to block me out. He breaks away from the dancing and moves towards the door. Do you think you can escape me, my love? Not possible. I know you too well - your thoughts, your instincts. The sight, sound and scent of you. You cannot escape me, Obi-Wan. I won't let you. I need you too much.

 

Obi-Wan tries to slip by a group of young men around his age as he makes his way to the exit, but alcohol has made one of them brave. The young man wraps his arms around Obi-Wan and kisses his sweet mouth. A red haze fills me as the last vestiges of restraint are ripped away. How dare that pup place his hands on my mate, take my Obi-Wan's mouth like that?

 

Obi-Wan is mine! He has belonged to me since the day on Bandomeer when I chose him to be my Padawan. I have merely been waiting for him to reach adulthood and the age of consent. Waiting for him to take his Trials. Even though he reached that age three years ago, still I restrained myself - waited. I needed to know how he felt, but now I do. And the Trials are close enough so as not to be important in this. Obi-Wan is well and truly my other half. All that remains is the acknowledgement... and by all that's sacred I will wait no longer. I will claim my mate. Now!

 

I am across the room and ripping him out of the upstart's arms before I can finish my thoughts. Outside, into the storm I pull him, then into our hut. We are soaked to the bone, but neither of us care.

 

"What in the hells of the Sith has gotten into you, Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan demands, his anger making him careless with words.

 

"Be careful, Obi-Wan. Be very careful," I warn. The beast within me is barely leashed. My anger has loosed its chain. If Obi-Wan defies me, I will not be able to control it any longer. "Don't you understand that you are mine? How dare you let that pup touch you!" I growl, enraged.

 

I feel Obi-Wan's temper spark. His eyes flare and the breath catches in his throat as it closes under his fury. Oh, that luscious throat.

 

"I know exactly who I belong to, Master Qui-Gon. I belong to myself, and to whomever I choose to share myself with. You are my teacher, nothing more - by your own choice!" Obi-Wan snarls.

 

A feral smile spreads over my face. Oh that was a foolish thing to do, beloved. Now I shall have to teach you just who has the right to share you. No one!

 

I am before Obi-Wan in two strides, pushing him back against the wall - pushing myself against his wanton body. Rubbing my straining cock against that stomach I admired earlier. My mouth claims his - hard. I ravish that wonderfully sweet, succulent mouth, bruising its tenderness with my onslaught. I can feel Obi-Wan's hands pushing against my chest, but I have him pinned to the wall. A moan escapes him, and I swallow it greedily. Animalistic noises of passion emerge from my throat. Obi-Wan softens against me. Thinking I have bent him to my will, I relax my hold.

 

In a quick move I find myself shoved away and recover in time to watch him sprint into the night.

 

So, Obi-Wan wishes to play, does he? Very well, my love. I shall join in the chase. I will find you, my Obi-Wan... and when I do, you will surrender to me.

 

I stalk out into the storm, casting my mind outwards. I can sense Obi-Wan - an incandescent light in the darkness of the night.

 

I begin to hunt.

 

End


	2. II. The Hunted

I've tried everything I can think of, but I have to face the inevitable conclusion that we're going to have to make an emergency landing. The shuttle is losing power quickly. The hyperdrive is badly damaged thanks to the stray asteroid that hit us. We don't have enough power to make it to our destination, let alone back to one of the more regularly traveled space corridors. I've run out of options.

 

I hold back a sigh as I turn to the imposing man sitting calmly next to me. "Master, I'm afraid I can't repair the damage. We're going to have to make an emergency landing."

 

I can hear the concern creep into my voice, just slightly. Not enough that if I were with anyone other than Qui-Gon Jinn, they would be able to hear it. But I am with my Master, and he knows me better than anyone. He heard. Of that I am sure.

 

But Sithspawn, the last thing we need is to be forced down on a backwater planet in the middle of the outer rim. The chances of anyone picking up the distress beacon out here are slim to none. Oh, I'm not worried that we won't be rescued. The Temple knew our basic flight plan; they knew when we left and when we were to arrive at our destination. They also knew that the shuttle was damaged, not destroyed - we were able to tell them that before we ventured out of communications range. It wouldn't be too difficult to extrapolate that we'd needed to set down and then plot our course.

 

The problem was that there were dozens if not hundreds of planets that we could have set down on. To search them all would take months, if not years. I'd like to be made a Knight before I reach my dotage, thank you very much. That and there's something I'd like to tell Master Qui-Gon. Hells, I'd like to show him, but I want to be a Knight and his equal before I do. After all it wouldn't do for an apprentice to confess his undying lust and love for his Master - and if the feelings aren't returned, I'd like a convenient escape route, like going off on a solo mission, so I can die from embarrassment in private.

 

I'm pulled from my reveries by a voice a smooth as Alderaanian whiskey. My Master's voice.

 

"I understand, Padawan; it's only through your abilities that we have managed to make it this far. Most of the planets in this sector are habitable. Choose the closest one and land. Republic relays will pass on our distress signal. We shall be picked up eventually."

 

I wish I could have his faith in our equipment and our imminent rescue, but I do as he requests. The nav computer turns up a few likely planets -they're probably crawling with smugglers and pirates. People we'd do well to avoid. The best choice appears to be one that has been recently visited by archeologists. I glance over at Master Qui-Gon and see his brow furrow in that sexy way it does when he's trying to protect me. I hate it when he does that but still... it's a nice feeling nonetheless.

 

He's probably assuming I don't realize the danger we might face. I'm twenty-three, not three. I've been in combat, in war situations. I've been held at blaster point, been interrogated and survived both Master Windu's lightsaber lessons and the deadly staff of Master Yoda. I sigh inwardly and consign myself to waiting another few years before I can show him just how damn grown-up I can be. If he had any idea of the things I wanted him to do to me, I wanted to do to him... This was definitely not the time to lose myself in my rather active fantasies of Qui-Gon the lover. After all, Master might pick up a stray thought ... or notice a more physical side effect.

 

Forcing myself back to the here and now, I turn to Master Qui-Gon. "Here, Master, the planet of Eira. It is oxygen-rich and has a temperate climate. Everything seems to indicate it will be compatible to all humanoid needs. There has even been some contact made with indigenous tribes by archeologists studying this sector's development. They seem to be friendly, if a bit primitive."

 

Qui-Gon smiles softly as he examines my choice. Oh, I know he has faith in me and my abilities. I know too that he thinks I'm almost ready to take my Trials. He just has this protective streak in him that spans the galaxy. Always picking up pathetic life forms, my Master. Force above, how I love that - how I love him. I'd never confess to either though. After all, it's so much fun to tease him about it. He get so serious and stern that I sometimes have this overwhelming urge to tickle him till he cracks, so instead I torment him about his strays. And thank the Force for his protective streak, which has saved a certain foolhardy Padawan on more than one occasion.

 

"Well done, Obi-Wan. Find a place to land near the most recently contacted tribe. We will make contact with them only if necessary," he murmurs calmly, patiently watching as I guide the shuttle to the relative safety of the planet below.

 

I still can't believe the past month and that I'm the one living this insane adventure. There were natives waiting for us when we landed. Force sensitive natives who spoke Standard and who'd seen our arrival in a vision. We were welcomed as long lost brothers and taken back to their village. We'd been 'adopted' by the village. It's almost funny really. All of a sudden we were the pathetic life forms being picked up and taken care of.

 

The Triethan have been very kind and generous to us. We've been given the run of the village, treated as members of their extended family and given accommodations of our own. I nearly swallowed my tongue when a few of the young women, and some of the men, started propositioning me. Sex, it seems, is a commonplace thing among the villagers. Generously shared and pleasurably received. When I declined, one young woman asked if my mate were the jealous type. I just stood there, gaping.

 

These people actually thought Qui-Gon and I were.... Mates! I must have turned every shade of red imaginable as I stammered out a yes; I figured what Qui-Gon didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and I'd be relieved of anymore speculation. The young woman took no offense, batted her eyes coquettishly and said that she could understand well why he would want to keep such a prime example of manhood all to himself. It took me four hours of deep meditation to recover my equilibrium, and by all that the Force holds sacred I am never telling Master Qui-Gon about this incident. I would die of mortification.

 

He looked at me oddly during dinner and asked what was wrong. Damn it all, why does he have to know me so well?

 

"It's been a month, Master, and still no sign of rescue. Damn it to the Sith, I'm going mad with waiting," I exclaimed, finding an acceptable excuse for my agitation. Truth was, without Master Qui-Gon here I probably would have gone crazy. His presence soothed and comforted me as it always did.

 

"Perhaps we should begin training again, Padawan, as well as assisting with the daily life of the village. This would give you something to focus on as well as teach you a lesson in patience. One that you seem to need. This planet is teeming with life, and it is the perfect place for you to learn how to be mindful of the living Force." I groaned silently. He always had a lesson to teach me. Always.

 

We settled into a routine of sorts. In the afternoons and evenings we would help the villagers in any way we could. We learned much of their way of life. A Jedi is always learning. After all the Code itself says that knowledge is important. Mornings were devoted to training - hard. We always had an audience when Master Qui-Gon and I practiced our katas and our lightsaber drills in the clearing beside the village. This was probably the reason why the tribal elders approached us. They seemed to be impressed with our skills as warriors and needed our advice. It seemed the villagers were being preyed upon by a 'demon'. It would attack indiscriminately, and what was left of the victim was not pleasant. They were ripped to shreds. Yet another attack had taken place that morning; this time it was one of their finest warriors that had been the victim. The matter was now getting out of hand as the village could not afford to lose those that protected it from harm. I felt Qui-Gon's silent question as he looked over at me; nodding imperceptibly, I gave my consent. How could I not? These people needed help, and aiding people was what a Jedi did. Qui-Gon offered our assistance in capturing the creature. The village warriors gratefully accepted. We went hunting.

 

Together Qui-Gon and I tracked the beast, using the Force to guide us to the so-called demon's lair. We found an animal similar to a tybar, which did not appear to be indigenous to Eira. It was probably left behind by smugglers or pirates or some other spacefaring group, and it had grown up feral. It was now old and sick, preying on those weaker than itself. And it was dying. Painfully. It was being eaten alive by its illness. So Master Qui-Gon and I did the only humane thing possible. We gave it a merciful end. The last thing either of us expected was to be proclaimed heroes or to be inducted as Triethan warriors and members of the tribe.

 

The Triethan definitely know how to celebrate. The celebrations began the day the demon died and have lasted all week. Tonight they come to a conclusion with Qui-Gon and me being made brothers of the tribe and warriors in our own right. We had to prove over the course of the week our value to the tribe through various displays of skill and prowess. That was the easy part. An important part of the ritual has involved the drinking of a tribal concoction meant to cleanse the spirit. Master Qui-Gon analyzed it and determined it would not kill us, so he felt that we shouldn't insult our hosts by not taking part of this ritual. So we drank the foul tasting concoction each day at dawn and dusk.

 

The potion seemed to have side effects though. It's been harder and harder to keep my shields up. I find I am picking up stray thoughts and emotions from Qui-Gon. That shouldn't be happening. I'm also finding that my emotions are closer to the surface than ever. Emotions that should be kept buried. My love for Qui-Gon flirts on the edge of my conscious thought, and I find my personality changing. I... Gods above, I want to be owned, claimed ... taken. I want Qui-Gon to mark me, possess me. Make me his in such a way that the vapid villagers get the hint and leave me alone. Yet I also want to mark him, claim him as my mate, my alpha-male, so those bovin-eyed twits realize that he's already taken and the one who has him is just as possessive and jealous. This loss of control troubles me. It's going to lead me into a world of trouble - I can feel it. It has gotten to the point where I need to ask Qui-Gon what to do.

 

"Master, I'm not sure, but I think that elixir we've been drinking has - affected me." I murmured softly. We are in our hut, preparing for the last night of the ceremonies, the initiation of brotherhood.

 

"How so, Padawan?" came the calm reply. Master Qui-Gon looked so serene, yet the cracks were beginning to show, just below the surface.

 

"I can't seem to maintain my shields as easily as I could before we started drinking that stuff. And... and I'm catching stray thoughts and feelings from you." A sharp look and a slight inhalation of breath tell me this troubles him. Is Qui-Gon hiding something from me?

 

"As am I, Obi-Wan. All we can do is maintain our shields as best we can and wait for the stuff to burn itself out of our bodies. It shouldn't take too long to do so."

 

I try to seem calm, but Sith - I don't want him to know how I feel just yet - not until I'm a Knight. "Yes, Master." Qui-Gon's eyes darken to a stormy blue, and the look he gives me makes me want to shudder in delicious anticipation. It is so primal, that look. Shielding has never been so difficult as it is right now. Force above, I hope I can maintain them.

 

My shields are gone - I couldn't stop their collapse. The last cup of that horrific brew scattered them the four winds, but oh the freedom. I have no restrictions on my thoughts; they flow like water through my head, quicksilver and light. Everything is there, on the surface. Thankfully Qui-Gon is the only one who can read my thoughts, and he is avoiding me. A small part of me wants him to see though, wants him to discover what has been preying on my soul for these past two years. Why don't you read my mind, Qui-Gon; what are you afraid of?

 

The heat of the celebration fire warms me even as it lights the meeting lodge. The ceremonies are over. We are brothers to the tribe. A sudden summer storm rattles the roof and howls at the door but inside the celebration reaches its peak. I feel so carefree, so primitive in my native garb of animal hide breeches and a form-hugging coarse woven shirt, open to my navel. I know I look good; many of the young men and women have been eyeing me as if I were a tasty treat, but the heat that sizzled in Qui-Gon's eyes when he first saw me is the only approval I want. I feel sensual and wanton. It is an almost forbidden delight to be this out of control, this careless.

 

I glance over at my Master. How tightly he holds on to his control. The heat in his eyes tells another story though - he wants me, he truly wants me. I smile wickedly, tempting him, tempting myself. I know I am taking chances, playing fast and loose, but something inside me goads me on. I don't want my calm, placid Master; I want him wild and uncontrolled. Unburdened by the rules and strictures of our real lives. This is fantasy, make-believe. We are not Jedi here; we are members of the tribe - warriors. I want to play with my warrior.

 

I am suddenly seized and pulled into the circle of dancers. It is the young woman who first propositioned me those many weeks ago. She smiles saucily at me.

 

"He is wild for you, you realize? If you keep teasing him like this, you might find yourself mauled," she whispers conspiratorially. I throw my head back in laughter. How did she know that this is what I wanted? "Shall we make it harder for him to resist perhaps?" she continues playfully.

 

As tempting as the offer is, I gently decline. I need only my Master. Unbidden, the images spring to mind of my last fantasy. Qui-Gon, hard and hot, pinning me to a wall, taking me almost violently. Ooh, how I love that fantasy.

 

Another one scrolls through my head, the one where I dance for Qui-Gon. Unconsciously I begin to mimic my fantasy, moving and swaying to the beat of the drums. Dancing for my Master, my lover... my mate. My dance becomes explicit, wanton. I move and gyrate to the drumbeats, my hips and pelvis thrusting in a mockery of lovemaking.

 

I feel his mind brush mind, and my head snaps up. Our eyes lock, and my breath catches. Force above, the heat blazing in your eyes, Qui-Gon! I shiver from their fire.

 

There is knowledge in his gaze. He knows; he has seen my wants, my needs. He knows how I feel about him - and it doesn't offend him. Lightly I skim his mind and feel the answering heat and need. Gods, such passion and power all concealed behind his Jedi serenity. For me. It's all for me.

 

But not here, not in a room full of strangers. I have wanted this for so long, so badly, that I refuse to share it. I try to resurrect my shields to hide my intent and break away from the dancing. I need fresh air, rain on my skin... I need Qui-Gon! Follow me, Master, I dare you. Follow and see what you have unleashed.

 

As I slip by a group of young warriors I have become friendly with, one of them grabs me. Hador. He has been nursing an infatuation over me for two weeks now, and the alcohol in his system has made him bold. Before I can stop him, he is kissing me, thrusting his tongue down my throat. I'm stunned and for a moment do nothing. In my mind I hear the growl of a wild beast. Master - oh no...

 

Next thing I know, Qui-Gon is dragging me out of Hador's arms and out into the storm. He yanks me across the village and into our hut. The rain has soaked us both through, but the dampness next to my flesh does little to curb my temper. A Jedi does not feel anger - so why am I so enraged that I can literally see red? Isn't this what I wanted? His possession? Of course it is, but it doesn't mean I have to give in so easily, just bend over the table and wait for that final, exhilaratingly terrifying claiming. My blood is hot in my veins, and I have this sudden overwhelming urge to make it difficult for my Qui-Gon.

 

"What in the hells of the Sith has gotten into you, Qui-Gon?" I grind out, forcing a confrontation. A look of rage and heat springs into Qui-Gon's eyes, the look of a predator scenting his prey. Yes! That is the look I want to see.

 

"Be careful, Obi-Wan," he warns softly. "Be very careful." He looks wild, feral. His normally tamed hair is wildly tossed; his eyes gleam with a dangerous light. "Don't you understand that you are mine? How dare you let that pup touch you!" Qui-Gon growls, enraged. He is the alpha-male in his full glory. Protective, possessive, controlling. Oh, how delicious he is... but no, I will not give in so easily, my Master, not when I want more... when I want everything. So I let my fury catch light, and it warms my cool body. I crane my neck up, exposing it, and as I had hoped, Qui-Gon's eyes lock on to the exposed flesh. He licks his lips, and his eyes heat my blood to the boiling point. "I know exactly who I belong to, Master Qui-Gon. I belong to myself and to whomever I choose to share myself with. You are my teacher, nothing more - by your own choice!" I snarl in sudden rage. He is so damn sure of himself. The ego, the arrogance to think I will submissively bow to whatever whims he desires me to.

 

A predatory smile spreads over his face. He seems almost overjoyed by my defiance. I sense a great deal of satisfaction from him and... oh Sith, perhaps this is a game I should not have played. I have forgotten that this is no pitten to be played with; this man before me is a grown and hungry tybar. And I have just dangled the most tantalizing bait in front of him. Before I realize just what is happening I am slammed into the wall behind me, Qui-Gon pushing his massive body into me, rubbing against me. I can feel the thick pole of his erection grind into my stomach. He is so huge! I've seen Qui-Gon naked, but he as always been un-aroused, and I have tried avoid the temptation to look. Now I wish I had paid more attention because this bar of flesh is enormous. And he wants to bury it inside me, that much is very obvious. A cold finger of fear slides down my spine.

 

My mouth is claimed in a brutal kiss. Qui-Gon ravishes my lips and mouth, scouring it with his tongue and teeth, devouring me. I try to shove him back, away, even as I try to breathe, but Qui-Gon has me overpowered and pinned to the wall. I moan, part ecstasy part fear, as I let myself go limp in his embrace. I hear his animal-like groans of pleasure as I do so. It is an old trick, feigning surrender, but one I hope he falls for. I have to get away, regroup. I am being swallowed whole, sucked into the maelstrom that is Qui-Gon Jinn.

 

He releases his adamantine grip on me. It is all I need. Using a combination of the Force and my own strength, I shove against him, send him staggering back, and bolt for the door. I need to put some distance between us, and fast. Using Jedi enhanced speed, I retreat into the storm-tossed blackness of the night. As Master Windu once told me, sometimes discretion is the better part of valor.

 

I feel the predatory joy that engulfs Qui-Gon through our bond. He is following, tracking me. I feel his shadowy image stalk after me into the night, his mind casting about in the dark to find me. I try to re-assemble my destroyed shields, try to make myself a ghost in the night. But I sense him.

 

I am hunted.

 

End.


	3. III. The Claiming

Obi-Wan could feel it, somewhere at the edge of his consciousness. There was a predator hunting him, a wild thing - hungry and out of control. He ran like the wind, making for his hiding place - a hunting lodge that one of the young men of the tribe had shown him a few weeks before. Hopefully by the time he was caught some of the wildness would have been leeched away by the night and the rain. Obi-Wan had no illusions of hiding himself. He would be caught. It was only a matter of time.

 

Breaking through the undergrowth, the exhausted young man flung himself through the door to the lodge, bolting it behind him and using a bit of the Force to brace it. Leaning back against the door, Obi-Wan sucked in great lungfuls of air, his chest heaving from the exertions of running at Force-enhanced speeds. He had not only been running from his Master but from his own demons. He too felt the hunger of the chase, the wild lust of mate stalking mate. His body hummed with it, desired it - that claiming, the end result of this headlong race into the night. He wanted.

 

Pushing himself away from the door, Obi-Wan built a fire in the central pit with wood stacked in the corner of the room. Soon a roaring blaze chased away the chill of the night and illuminated the large lodge. It was a one-room structure, with a central fire pit for both cooking and warmth. Surrounding the fire pit were large pallets of soft furs for sleeping and benches for sitting. Cooking utensils and supplies were in easy reach of the fire and the huge wood slab table next to it. The windows were shuttered tightly against the outside weather. Firelight seeped through the cracks into the night, acting like beacons in the dark. Flames painted the walls in a chiaroscuro relief of dark and light, ever shifting and dancing in the primal rhythms of destruction and rebirth.

 

It was a comfortable, if rough, place, he thought as he stripped off his saturated clothing, laying it close to the fire to dry. Wrapping himself in one of the sleeping furs, Obi-Wan sat down on one of the benches and brought his knees up to his chin, curling into himself to preserve his body heat. Laying his head on his knees, Obi-Wan watched the hypnotic dance of the flames, never realizing that they were lulling him to sleep.

 

The soft glimmer of firelight led the hunter to his prey just as surely as the pull of mind to mind did. He moved though the inky blackness in total silence - no crack of twig or whisper of movement giving him away. Qui-Gon could almost scent his mate's passage this way in the still night air, and his lust sharpened.

 

Approaching the structure cautiously, he circled it and used both inner and outer sight to check for weaknesses. Obi-Wan had placed a sort of lock on the door, barricading it with the Force. Any attempt to enter that way or to remove it would alert the younger man of Qui-Gon's exact location, waking him from the sleep that Qui-Gon had teased him into. As it was, Obi-Wan could sense his proximity, although it was a clouded perception due to another suggestion of the Force.

 

He would have to gain entry a different way. A little more probing of the lodge's integrity and he had his way in. With the skill of a master thief, Qui-Gon worked open one of the shutters, making sure that not a breath of air or hint of sound alerted his mate to his presence. Vaulting the sill lithely, Qui-Gon shut and secured it and all other windows using the same trick Obi-Wan had. Locking them in for the night.

 

The sight that met his eyes did little to bank the inferno burning within him. Soft, spiky hair glinted copper-gold in the fire's glow, and ivory skin was dusted with the luster of gold where the sleep fur had slipped, exposing the elegant curve of neck and spine to the light. Qui-Gon hungered.

 

Stripping his clothes from his aroused body, Qui-Gon prowled silently up behind his Obi-Wan and wrapped his long arms around the slumbering man, locking him into place even as he awoke Obi-Wan to his presence. The hard, strong body beneath him stiffened in denial as Obi-Wan's head snapped up in awareness, exposing his throat to the hungry mouth of his hunter.

 

Teeth sank into the creamy expanse of throat, marking, claiming. A promise kept. Obi-Wan moaned in heat and pain as blood rushed to the abused skin, forming bruises for all to see. It was a sign of possession.

 

Laving the bite with soothing strokes of his tongue, Qui-Gon gentled his anxious lover with patient touches and soft kisses, only to nip at the delicious flesh once again when he was overwhelmed by the need to taste his mate. "Mine," he whispered hotly into the shell of a perfect ear. "Mine and no one else's. No one else will see you like this, taste you like this, touch and mark you, make you scream in ecstasy. No one but me!"

 

Hunger was a beast that clawed at him, tore its way free from the fragments of civilization that had tenaciously clung to Qui-Gon. Nothing, not even his precious Jedi training, remained of the Master. The only thing left was the need to claim to possess and penetrate, to brand his mate indelibly with his sign of ownership.

 

The scent of pheromones filled the air, both his and his mate's. In a quicksilver move Qui-Gon tore away the fur covering, baring Obi-Wan's body to his scorching gaze. Obi-Wan arched his back, exposing more of his chest, thrusting his hips out in an age old sign of submission, displaying his want and need... his willingness to be claimed. Obi-Wan's phallus gleamed red bronze in the light, pearls of ejaculate slipping from its weeping tip.

 

A feral growl burst forth, and Obi-Wan was captured in powerful arms and pressed face down onto the table. He struggled half-heartedly. He was not about to make this easy or quick. He wanted it long and drawn out, a battle for dominance he ultimately wanted to lose. Once more, the decision was taken from him. A strong hand held him firmly down on the table, only to be replaced with the Force. He heard the rending of fabric then felt with disbelief as first one wrist then the next was brought behind his back and secured with a length of torn fabric, rendering him completely helpless and vulnerable.

 

Obi-Wan fought back, heaving up and back, trying to shake off the overpowering man above and behind him. A feral snarl was the only warning as teeth once more sank into flesh, this time drawing a drop of blood from his right shoulder. A growl, and then it was licked and soothed. "Mine... say it. MINE!"

 

"Yours, Master, always and forever yours, no one else's. PLEASE, QUI-GON!" Obi-Wan screamed as lust-fire heat raced through his already aroused body, burning away old perceptions and beliefs, searing away the single soul that once resided in his writhing body, replacing it with an entwined one. One where he was both possessed and possessor. Captive and captor, but nevermore alone in his existence.

 

Lips and hands began to move over perfect flesh, learning every curve, dip and hollow. Obi-Wan's backbone was delineated with a series of love bites, turning the thin covering of skin a delicate pink. Hands roamed over the broad expanse of shoulder, tracing sinewy muscles before curving underneath to gently abrade aroused nipples, pinching them delicately, adding the sharp spice of pleasure-pain. Every inch of Obi-Wan's back, waist and arms was tasted and learned by touch.

 

Qui-Gon moved away briefly to retrieve a pillow, then, placing the cushion under Obi-Wan's secured hands and the small of back, his lover was turned over so this too could be claimed. Obi-Wan's collarbone was traced delicately by a mobile tongue, the hollow of his throat teased with sucking kisses as hands pulled at and teased the already aroused nipples. Lips followed the path of hands, tasting what had been only touched before, mapping uncharted territory with taste and scent.

 

Obi-Wan moaned, low and breathlessly, a primal mating cry. His head tossed restlessly and his phallus wept a constant rain of pre-ejaculate. His muscles involuntarily seized and contracted as he tried to thrust into the embrace, tried to deny his capture. This only drew Qui-Gon's attention downwards to a flat stomach defined by washboard abdominal muscles, each one precisely traced by moist lips, and the erotic indentation of naval that had to be tasted thoroughly.

 

Moving lower still, Qui-Gon nuzzled the auburn thicket of curls, breathing deeply the musk of his lover. The throbbing erection before him was bathed in long, rough licks, the flavors of salt and semen bursting over his tastebuds. Moaning as thirst overpowered him, Qui-Gon swallowed the tumescent shaft without warning, right down to its base.

 

Obi-Wan cried out in shocked pleasure as his sensitized penis was engulfed in steamy moistness. Qui-Gon had relaxed his throat so that Obi-Wan's entire length was swallowed all at once. Qui-Gon began to fuck Obi-Wan with his mouth, moving up and down rapidly, all the while applying a strong suction even as he undulated his throat muscles.

 

Qui-Gon ran his hands up and down Obi-Wan's flanks before playing with the taut, full balls beneath, and lightly tickling a finger across the younger man's perineum and anus. It was too much. Obi-Wan's back arched in a rictus of pleasure, and he howled in his completion, shattering the sex-laden silence of the room.

 

Qui-Gon swallowed rapidly, drinking down the salty fluid that pulsed down his throat. He licked and suckled his lover's cock until only the last mouthful of Obi-Wan's ejaculate remained. Crawling up over his lover's body, Qui-Gon leaned down and took the panting lush mouth, sharing with Obi-Wan the taste of his own pleasure.

 

Obi-Wan's tongue lashed the insides of Qui-Gon's mouth, tasting, learning, expressing his needs in the only physical way he could. Qui-Gon pulled back and took in the glittering sea-storm eyes, the flushed perspiring face, the savage look of lust and grinned. Obi-Wan was ready for the claiming.

 

Looking up into Qui-Gon's blue-black gaze, Obi-Wan's reserve finally gave out. "Sith damn you, Qui-Gon, do it, I want you in me! FUCK ME!"

 

The coarse, dirty word coming from his elegant and gentlemanly young mate was more than Qui-Gon could take. "You want to be fucked, my love? Very well - you will be!"

 

Flipping Obi-Wan over, Qui-Gon stuffed the pillow beneath his young lover's hips. Spying what he needed, Qui-Gon snagged the pot of cooking oil even as he knelt behind Obi-Wan and finally separated the firm ass cheeks which had tormented him for years. He groaned at the feast that was now exposed to him.

 

The perfect arch of hip and spine, the firm, muscled ass cheeks, and the shadowy cleft that framed the puckered entrance to his Obi-Wan's body were laid out before him - his to claim, and his alone. Running his tongue lightly down the cleft, Qui-Gon heard and felt Obi-Wan react with a shocked gasp and the jerking of his body.

 

Plying his tongue harder, he rimmed the younger man, savoring the dark taste of musk and sweat and arousal that played on his tongue. Making his tongue a spear of flesh, he began to relax the virgin entrance awaiting him, slowly prodding Obi-Wan's anus with ever deepening thrusts. When Obi-Wan began to moan and buck back against the intrusion, Qui-Gon removed his tongue and slipped a well oiled finger inside, feeling the tight ring of muscles clamp down, then relax to allow him entrance.

 

The finger moved in and out, imitating a more powerful claiming to come, seeking and finding Obi-Wan's prostate. He brushed against the bundle of nerves, causing Obi-Wan to shiver, moan and thrust back harder to recapture the dark pleasure of that touch. Removing his finger, Qui-Gon replaced it with two heavily oiled fingers, repeating the same ritual of twisting and stretching and arousing. As three fingers were slipped inside, Qui-Gon began to masturbate Obi-Wan with his other hand, gently massaging and pulling the once more erect phallus of his love, causing the dual sensation of taking and being taken. Obi-Wan was panting breathlessly, moaning and grinding his hips into the tabletop, silently begging to be taken.

 

Releasing his grip on Obi-Wan's shaft, Qui-Gon stood, using his now free hand to oil his own massive cock, making sure it was well prepared. Slipping the fingers free of Obi-Wan's body, he quickly pushed the tip of his cock inwards, breaching the tight muscles before Obi-Wan had a chance to contract them. "Yesssss," he growled.

 

"Gods - Qui-Gon!" Obi-Wan wailed, thrusting backwards, impaling himself even more. Pleasure and pain combined in a star bright conflagration of heat and lust. He bit down on his lip, drawing blood as Qui-Gon continued to sink into him - until, finally, he felt thigh slap against thigh.

 

Qui-Gon blanketed Obi-Wan, gentling his restive movements with loving bites and kisses, soothing him as he would a skittish animal. He rested inside the tight, heated channel that was his alone, waiting for Obi-Wan to adjust to his presence within him. He had patience. He wanted Obi-Wan to enjoy this, for no other would have him from this moment on, and Qui-Gon needed his mate to enjoy his possession.

 

Finally, imperceptibly, muscles loosened and relaxed. Qui-Gon withdrew almost entirely, only to slowly penetrate Obi-Wan again. Again and again his love was released and reclaimed, until Obi-Wan began to thrust backwards in tandem to Qui-Gon's lazy movements, but at a much more rapid pace. Taking the hint, Qui-Gon picked up the tempo, moving within Obi-Wan faster and faster until hips slapped against hips and the younger man was all but slammed into the table repeatedly.

 

At first he thought it was the sound of sex, of bodies slapping together, of sweat running and moans escaping, but slowly the noise grew. "Yes yes yes yes...." Obi-Wan was chanting over and over, each repetition progressively louder than the last until he was screaming his pleasure, bucking and thrusting backwards, impaling himself on his captor, his hunter. "QUI-GONNNNNN!" Obi-Wan heaved off the table, slamming himself back into his Master, muscles clenching and spasming as he came in great pulsing streams.

 

Roaring as Obi-Wan's muscles squeezed his over-sensitive cock, Qui-Gon came, flooding his lover, marking him forever as Qui-Gon's.

 

Collapsing on top of Obi-Wan he gently bit the exposed neck underneath him, completing the possession. The alpha had claimed his mate.

 

The End


End file.
